


the world is ending (& we have been here before)

by sappho_irl



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, Some Fluff, Some angst, Trans Female Character, a pair of lesbians, everything you need in life, g'raha loves the wol, gender affirming handjob, the crystal tower is transphobic, the wol loves g'raha, trans g'raha, trans wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22541299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappho_irl/pseuds/sappho_irl
Summary: "I am like you, my friend, but this body," G'raha waves a hand to encompass the entirety of herself, "well, it disagrees rather vehemently.""Are you so sure, Raha?" You say, hands tracing slow paths across her chest. Your claws are sharp and they make G'raha's crystal sing. "It belongs to you, beloved. Yours is the only definition that matters for it.""Would you think me weak for wanting yours to mean just as much?"
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	the world is ending (& we have been here before)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a) extraordinarily self-indulgent and b) 1500ish words of second person experimentation. please, enjoy

You have your suspicions when you first meet - when you first meet the Exarch.

But then the light is inside of you, cracking like glass and shredding your soul. All thoughts save those of your inevitable death fled. And then -

And then.

Your room in the Pendants is quiet at this late hour, the window shuttered and the door firmly locked. No one would dare invade the Warrior of Darkness's privacy, not intentionally, but you know well enough to know that few people are as incorruptible as they believe. You yourself are the perfect example. The light stains you even now, haunting the edges of your vision and sending fissures of pain through your chest. Y'shtola says that your aether is mended. Urianger agrees.

You still wake up screaming, the sound a tortured, wretched thing. You've grown familiar with the warmth of your family's blood on your sinless claws. The nightmares care not that the Scions are aether bound phantoms. And so the blessed night you dragged across the sky becomes as dire a portent as the once omnipresent light.

"You're thinking again." G'raha's voice is a delicate thing in the silence. It makes you ache, pulling at your heart and causing your arms to tighten around the body between your legs. Your back is to the wall and G'raha's to your front. You're both naked save for a sheet doing its best to shield the dignity of two legends. "Ramiel? Are you well, my friend?"

"Yes, I - I'm fine, Raha." You say, the lie capsizing the moment you shove it out to sea. You feel G'raha shift in your arms and dispense with pretense. "You never told me how this happened. How you ended up like this."

G'raha's voice catches, tripping over the knowing in your tone. You give the sudden awkwardness space. Entangled though you are, there's still too much left unsaid. The only words you've exchanged in the last few suns have been pleas and demands; broken things riding on the back of exhalations and moans. You're used to this sort of coupling, wandering hero that you are, but you know G'raha wishes for (and deserves) more. And you so dearly wish to be one who sees that need fulfilled.

G'raha's answer is one of defeat, of a plan unraveled and an ego bruised. "You knew from the start, didn't you? I was a fool to think I could hide anything from you."

"I have a distinct advantage, beloved." You say, rolling your hips and pressing yourself into G'raha. The gasp that falls between you is familiar and oh so precious. "You're not the first one to walk this path."

"I suppose not." G'raha says, pushing back against you. You can feel yourself stirring, your world narrowing down to the friction and scent of your lover. G'raha has the better nose, but yours is good enough to become drunk off the sex hanging in the air. "I, ah, perhaps we should -"

You growl, low in your throat, and G'raha turns to liquid. Trembling skin and crystal more sensitive than you imagined, all gone slack. It's humbling to be the place where G'raha rests after being _the Exarch_. No one but Lyna can claim to have been present for such a thing, and even she is a step removed from the true mantle being laid down. You suspect she doesn't even know it exists. Otherwise, your reunion with G'raha may have involved more than intuition and gut instinct.

"You need to speak the words, Raha." You say, murmuring into a flicking ear. You want to bite down on it and hear the resulting whimper. You want and you hunger and you will wait, because this is important. "I would have all of you."

G'raha _keens_ , a sweating mess whose hands have reached back to tangle in your long hair. There are a few brushes at the base of your ears that make you growl again. You will not be denied nor placated, not when you can almost taste satisfaction.

"I - by the time I knew, there was nothing I could _do_." G'raha says, and the pent-up shame of the proclamation douses your ardor. The embers are then smothered by sniffling and a sob badly hidden. "Gods - forgive me, Ramiel. I do not mean to be like this. Not when I have you, and so much to be grateful for besides."

"There's nothing to forgive." You say, nuzzling the same ear you were tormenting just a few moments ago. Any other day and you'd be suffering from emotional whiplash, but, you've been here before. And G'raha will not be alone as you were. "Raha, beloved - you have nothing to fear from me. Please."

"I am like you, my friend, but this body," G'raha waves a hand to encompass the entirety of herself, "well, it disagrees rather vehemently."

You want to take G'raha by the shoulders and shake her. You want to hold her until and through every Umbral Calamity. Your instincts war with one another, stubborn anger and bottomless affection trading a hundred mortal blows. G'raha is quiet, likely aware of your inner strife and kind enough to let you broker some sort of peace. You do, in the end, and it feels like the first selfish, perfect thing you've done on this star.

"Are you so sure, Raha?" You say, hands tracing slow paths across her chest. Your claws are sharp and they make G'raha's crystal sing. "It belongs to you, beloved. Yours is the only definition that matters for it."

"Would you think me weak for wanting yours to mean just as much?" G'raha says, leaning her head back and exposing a slight expanse of neck covered in dark bruises. It took effort to keep your fangs clean of blood. Gods only know if G'raha understands the significance of that; of how desperately your body has been calling for its mate. Wood take your ears if she's unaware, because that conversation can only promise a bittersweet conclusion.

"I have only ever thought you brave, Raha." You say, working your hands beneath the sheet and resting one on G'raha's thigh. The other teases its way between her legs, claws leaving red lines and echoes in their wake. When you give her half-hard length a cursory stroke, she almost jumps off the bed, only held in place by your strength. "This is part of the woman I've been worshiping for three suns now. It and every other inch of you."

"My warrior." G'raha mewls, undone in an instant and all the more beautiful for it. She rises and falls like a hymn, reacting to your ministrations as if they're all she's ever dreamed of having. You growl and don't stop, too busy focusing on G'raha's cries to control the rumbling in your chest. "Gods, Ramiel, _please_."

You stop torturing G'raha and _stroke_ , fingers slick from her earlier completions. The sound it makes is obscene, especially when you slow down to caress her head, coating yourself in even more of her wetness. G'raha is without restraint now - she shudders and moans and almost _yowls_ with each motion. You regret that you can't see her face easily from this angle.

There are perks, though, and you do get her ear between your teeth. A little pressure, a light touch of fang, and G'raha is a wreck. An army of unintelligible words spill off her lips and you think, with some amusement, that she's flooding from both ends. Through the babble, you can make out another plea; a warning and a revelation.

"Go ahead, beloved." You say into her ear. "Let go for me. Let your warrior see her lady freed."

G'raha is, as is always the case with you, accommodating. She tenses, back curved like a bow and voice rising to a wail, and then breaks like a wave. Your hand is doused in sticky heat and your head spins from the sensation. You keep stroking, leading G'raha from her thrashing, frenzied peak to a valley of soft, gentle pulses. She whimpers in time with your hand and you see no reason to stop.

Quiet falls over the room again. A half bell has passed, if that. You can feel your arousal simmering underneath your skin and push it down. At the moment, the greater pleasure is in giving. You coax a few more shivers from G'raha before she makes a vague noise of protest. The sheets are already sullied beyond saving and you wipe her off on them, chuckling when she whines with embarrassment.

"I had you in my mouth earlier and you didn't blush half as hard." You say, and G'raha is left speechless, though you think the aftermath of being taken is more to blame. She tries to huff and pull away, finding that none of her limbs want to cooperate. You aren't helping either, holding her close as you laugh and say "my innocent, beloved Exarch."

"I am at least twice your age." G'raha says, trying for imperious and landing on disgruntled. "And more traveled when I was young than you were when we first met."

Sweating, out of breath, and working herself into a righteous snit, you've never seen a more radiant woman.

And you tell her so.


End file.
